Things I Hate: Gum Smacking Edition

Today, I'm going to write about something else that I passionately hate: gum smacking. This was inspired by some experiences at the recent graduation ceremonies that I've gotten to attend (p.s. - hooray from me, I'm a J.D.!!). So without further ado...

Thing I hate today: gum smacking.

Originally, I thought my hatred was of chewing gum, because in theory that is the root cause of what I hate. But it struck me, that's not it, because I enjoy chewing gum, sometimes it's great when you need to get a certain taste of out of your mouth. I, for one, enjoy the taste of Ice Cubes Cooling Lemon gum. It's refreshing and delicious, and not to gummy-tasting. So, I will not spend the rest of this post hating on chewing gum.

I hate gum smacking. I hate it for several reasons:

1. It's noisy. I hate the sound of anything involving chewing and noise. In high school, I very blatantly told a girl I always ate lunch with that she needed to stop her noisy chewing because it was annoying.
2. It's gross. You wouldn't generally chew with your mouth open with anything else inside it, like regular food, so why would you do it with a food derivative? (Because that's what it is, a food substitute.)
3. If you do this, you look like a cow. To be more exact, you look like a cow chewing cud, and that is not attractive. I'm not exactly sure when it become socially acceptable or desirable to take on bovine qualities, but in America it has. If I may make a point - a few years ago when Catherine Middleton's (i.e., the new Duchess of Cambridge, loved the royal wedding, BTW!) mother was caught on camera chewing gum with her mouth closed, the British paparazzi gave her such crap about bad manners, it was ridiculous. Here, people show up at fancy things all the time, smacking gum unabashedly, and it's no big deal.

So, to be frank, I don't understand why someone would want to make themselves look like a cow. I also don't understand why people can't wait like AN HOUR to pop in a piece of gum, instead of smacking like crazy at graduation ceremonies, weddings, special events in general.

Take my advice: don't do it. You look bad and you look like a cow. So again I ask: why do you want to look like a cow? Unless you are a real BBQ enthusiast (like my father), I don't think you should EVER want to take on bovine qualities.

Note: this hatred also extends to gum popping. I HATE gum popping, almost as much as I hate gum smacking. Just a side note.

My daughter is a jerk...or why my Saturday was infinitely more exciting than yours.

Thursday, I had a doctor's appointment with my OBGYN and found out some exciting news (pardon if this is TMI) - I lost my mucus plug and I'm already 1 cm dilated (not much, but still something). So needless to say, I spent Thursday night studying and bargaining with God and Ella, that she would please stay put until at LEAST 12:30, so I could finish my final. I preferred 10:30 that night so that I could go to Frank's graduation, but I wasn't going to be picky. Friday came, and I took that final and saw Frank graduate. At that point, I breathed a sigh of relief and had a little conversation with Ella: "Okay, sweetheart, you did what I asked, now I'm not so picky about when you decide to come. But if you could wait until next weekend, that would be even better."

Saturday, Frank and I went to our infant care class where we learned to bathe, feed, diaper, and swaddle a baby. Afterwards, he asked if I'd like to go to lunch, and I told him Panda Express sounded good, so being the good husband that he is, he took me to the food court at the mall and got me my orange chicken. I was about to go get an ice cream cone from Ben and Jerry's (I know, I eat so well, don't share this with my doctor), but I decided I needed to go to the bathroom first.

I waddled my way back, did my business, and walked about to the stall to go wash my hands. Halfway there, and something happened. GOOSH. I stopped mid-stride, wondering if what I thought had actually just happened - had my water just broken? I ran back to the stall, and sure enough, there had been a sudden gush of fluid. I wasn't quite panicked, just surprised - that would be Ella's style, literally holding out until I had just finished what I absolutely had to. It would be too much to think that I could have a relaxed weekend, naturally she would want to make it all about her.

So, I waddled, very quickly this time, back out to where Frank was waiting for me. "I think my water broke!" He stood there silent for a second, clearly stunned, and then grabbed my hand and said, "Okay, let's get you to the hospital." We got to the hospital, found the women's evaluation unit, and settled in to wait for the attending physician to make it back to examine me.

Three hours later, after several examinations and some blood work, I found out that my water had not broken. What had happened: my precious sweet little baby girl stuck her head in my bladder, essentially dividing it in two. So I went to the bathroom, thought I was done, got up, and at that exact moment, Ella moved her head, resulting in a gush, but not of amniotic fluid. Essentially, I wet my pants (although not intentionally, and because of the little jerk).

I was feeling more than a little embarrassed, but was reassured by both Frank and the doctor and nurses that I did the right thing - it was much better to be safe than sorry. But here's what I learned:

• My water breaking will feel exactly the same, with only a minor difference.
• I'm already 50% effaced, so that means this baby is coming sooner than I thought.
• Where the maternity unit is, and where I need to go when the time actually comes, and not because I should have been wearing Depends.
• My husband is amazing - when I was freaking out a little and completely upset about having wet pants in the mall, he was holding my hand and keeping me calm. I wasn't sure how he would be in labor, but I learned a lot about him that afternoon, and it was all good.
• My daughter is a jerk. She literally made me wet my pants. Frank said that she probably decided to pull that stunt so she could get her picture taken (I had to get another sonogram done to check my fluid levels).

So, that was my exciting Saturday. Can you top that?

When life hands you lemons...

...be happy and put them in the fridge, because those things are expensive!

So, it's finals time, and I'm deliriously skipping through my last round of law school finals EVER (sorry if that was salt being rubbed in your wounds). This is the time of year where everyone gets stressed, and we're all probably a little homicidal (because everyone knows that running out of tabs at 6:30 in the morning is a NATIONAL EMERGENCY when you've got a test in less than 3 hours and you want to get your outline finished, so don't ask if they're really important!). There's sometimes a little depression - like can I possibly cram all of this knowledge from the last 4 months into my brain in time for a final? can I regurgitate it all back in a coherent form? will I find a job anytime soon?

Needless to say, sometimes I have to stop and back away and consider it all for a moment. I have to actively look for things to be happy to be happy about, because I know they are there, and sometimes I find them in surprising places - like when I'm being actively pissy and purposely finding the glass half empty (a change from my natural disposition - it's neither empty or half full, it's twice as big as it needs to be).

So, here's an unusual post: things I love and things that make me happy.

1. My husband. When I am ranting about things like the lack of sticky tabs at 6:30 in the morning or requesting to be tucked into bed at 7:30 because I'm just exhausted, he just smiles indulgently and does it without a question. He knows when to laugh and he knows when to be quiet and he knows when I just need a hug. I'm kind of demanding (shocking, right?), but he loves me anyway.
2. My daughter. Taking finals while pregnant has been an experience - she gets bored and starts stretching, sometimes there's a contraction that can take my breath away for a moment, and I need to pause for a moment before I go on. But I'll tell you this: I wouldn't change a minute of it. Every time I feel her squirm, I know she's growing and healthy, and has one hell of a little personality. And I wouldn't trade her little nudges during exams for anything. Maybe it's her way of making sure I know that she is supporting me.
   
3. My parents. To say that they support me is an understatement. I don't think they always understand what it is I'm talking about or the latest thing I've gotten into, but they put on a good pretend face and go with it. Not to mention, they've literally let their house be taken over by baby stuff while we get ready to move back. Now that's devotion.
4. Archie. He's a ball of fluff with a prissy attitude, and probably the nicest cat in the world. Even though I don't appreciate always being kneaded at ungodly hours because he wants to show me how much he loves me, it's worth it when he snuggles up next to me in the mornings when I'm having a slow day and sleeping in. He's my little snuggle bunny.
5. Frank's snow cone machine. We just added this to our household inventory this weekend. Cherry snow cones whenever I want? Yes please!
6. My craft project bin. Even though there are 4 projects in various states of incompleteness, I love looking over and seeing the possibilities in that box. I know that there are a bunch of things in there that will one day be beautiful, and I get to be part of that process.
7. My friends. Misery loves company, and I love the miserable group that I'm surrounded with. There's nothing better than a great group of girls to turn to and hang out with. I wouldn't trade them for the world.

So, there's a few small reminders to myself of why life is good, even though things are a little hectic. It'll all calm down eventually (probably just in time for Ella to be born).

Happy Tuesday, everyone :)